Child of Mine
by Anna McNarin
Summary: What if you went to bed one night and everything changed on you?
1. Chapter 1

This was comfort; covered head to toe, curled up beneath fresh sheets and snuggled against a soft pillow in his own room, and all before three a.m. No blinding city lights, no noxious bike fumes, no low flying planes, no drafty Tower rooms, just a quiet house, the sweet smell of fabric softener -Mountain Fresh to be exact- and the minute rapping of tree branches on the side of the house.

He tugged his arms free of his self made cocoon to hug his pillow around his head. Dimly he wondered why he had ever preferred the Tower bedroom, if you could call it a room, to this snug little corner of the universe known as the suburbs.

The suburbs was one thing he wished he had rediscovered sooner. Sure after high school he abandoned his childhood home in a neighborhood similar to this one for life in the city and college, running from his parents more than the place itself. Of course, it took him nearly ten years and a daughter to realize that.

He cracked his eyes, frowning mildly at the cobalt shadows on the wall. He wasn't his dad, and his daughter had no mother to mess up her life.

A small pang of guilt edged its way between his heart and left lung. That wasn't fair of him. Not all women were like his mother, and he was sure whoever he married would be the opposite of his mom.

A small, knowing smile graced his face. Morgana was definitely above and beyond the exact opposite of his mother. In fact, he was fairly certain his mother's perfectly swept, tartan waves would have turned stark white and stood on end if she had just glimpsed the beautiful sorceress in passing.

He had to chuckle at that, turning farther into the recesses of his bedding.

Abruptly, he stopped, feeling a little ill at ease. His mother's gentle, flowing voice flooded into his consciousness as he imagined her reaction to Morgana.

Of course, she would be absolutely beside herself with self righteous indignation, her light green eyes pools of disgust. Then she would set about filling his head with every Bible verse, sermon, and religious note she could find on how dating, God forbid marrying, a witch would land him in hell. He figured the only acceptable woman for him in the eyes of his strict mother was a nun, but that she would condemn him for that too, disregarding the fact she didn't even agree with Catholic beliefs.

He clamped his eyes as tightly as he could and groaned wearily. This was why he disliked his mother. All the crap she forced him to assimilate as a kid always ended up sabotaging the good things in his life. Morgana being the big one.

He was head over heels for the enchantress, and had no problem envisioning spending the rest of his nights with her, but that's as far as it went. He couldn't see her living in the suburbs next to decent, albeit annoying, people like the Muddlefoots. He couldn't see her out in the sun to attend one of Gosalyn's softball games. He sure as heck couldn't see her driving his station wagon _anywhere_ (well, okay he didn't want to be seen driving it either, but he _had_ just bought a house so he couldn't be too picky) He could see her trying to adjust to suburban life, but only because he wanted her to. In fact, the only thing about his life he could see her in was motherhood, and that was because she was a gentle, patient, and warm person topped off with beauty and intelligence; a kid could be so lucky to have her for a mother. Gosalyn could be so lucky, as would he.

Drake smiled, then flatly scowled. A very big "but . . ." was drilling its way through his head.

Morgana would want to teach Gosalyn everything she knew, and she would take great pride in doing so even if Gos couldn't do most of it, and the little girl would be eager to learn, which is where the majority of the sabotage lay. He had a problem with it.

No one knew he had an issue about Gosalyn's obvious interest in Morgana's world, not like this. Although, Morgana was careful about what she told his daughter, especially after a certain idea that had been planted in her head at one point, it still rubbed him wrong. Gosalyn was not a witch. Fact of life. Because of that, he didn't want her head full of information she could never utilize and sent to hell because of it.

Drake Mallard slammed his thought process into a cement wall.

Had he _really_ just thought that?

He couldn't believe himself and felt like retching because of it. His daughter and Morgana, were free to be and do as they chose. He would never ever love them any less because of their decisions in life.

Man, he disliked his mother.

A mother.

Another tiny crease appeared on his brow.

Did Gosalyn even want a mother? He wasn't entirely sure, but was fairly certain the answer was yes, even if she were to say no.

Drake moaned pitifully into his pillow. Once again, his over analytical brain was keeping him awake, but there was nothing he could do about that except wait for gravity to have its way with his eyelids and force him asleep. Which he figured the sandman wouldn't be long in coming, making himself depressed always aided in making him sleepy as he got too tired of thinking to want to stay awake. It would have worked too, only a small noise reached his ears causing him to sit up in bed fully alert.

"Gosalyn?" He asked into the darkness, wondering if she was out in the hall, which at two thirty in the morning she hadn't better be. Sensing the possibility of another one of her late night zombie hunts, Drake climbed out of bed and threw his door open.

Nothing.

The hall was as dark and empty as it had been when he went to bed, leaving him a little stumped. He knew he had heard something and it couldn't have been Launchpad, who had left earlier that afternoon for a graduation party in Duckburg, so that left Gosalyn.

Drake scolded himself. He probably dreamt he heard the noise. Yes, that was it. Dreaming. Dreaming about dreaming that is, for he definitely heard it again seconds before closing his door, bringing his curiosity up a notch. With his head cocked and blue eyes narrowed into keen slits, eyeing every inch of the hall, he focused on straining his ears to pick up the sound and trace its source.

There. The sound was coming from down the hall on the left, closer to the stairs, closer to Gosalyn's room. It stopped and Drake just stood in the doorway puzzled. He wasn't afraid by any means, yet he couldn't identify the sound. He couldn't remember ever hearing anything like it, leading him to think that maybe Gos had smuggled a very unlikely pet into her room. He raised an eyebrow as if to say "we'll see about that", walked decidedly to his daughter's room and peeked in.

Everything was normal. Debris from a recent hurricane still littered the floor. Sports gear, old soda cans, a few scattered comic books protruding at odd angles, all slightly visible under and around other larger items. Minding his step, Drake stealthily made his way to his daughter's bedside reasserting he only meant to check on her, and anything she may be harboring.

Drake lifted the end of her blankets where he thought her head to be and let loose a scream of unfiltered, mindless shock. Where his nine year old daughter should have been was a tiny, roughly six month old baby girl with red fuzz for hair. With an "eep" and a thud, Drake Mallard hit the floor.

* * *

**_Okay, I'm a little mean as this is just a teaser for a larger story that started out as a one shot but once again evolved into something more. Hit me up and tell me what you think. Oh, and the title may be subject to change._**


	2. Chapter 2

A truly dreadful wailing resonating in his ears was the first thing he could identify before his vision came flooding back. For a moment he simply laid on the messy floor, truly astounded that there was a baby who looked like Gosalyn on his daughter's bed. It was Gosalyn though, he knew it. Gosalyn was a baby. 

His common sense caught up with the rest of him.

Gosalyn was a baby -who was currently screaming her tiny head off because he had scared the living daylights out of her.

Groaning, Drake deftly jump kicked himself into a crouch and then stood, gently scooping his infant daughter into his arms. No wonder he hadn't recognized the sounds he heard. He had never been around babies before. Growing up he never had any brothers and sisters, only a few distant relatives who pretty much kept to themselves.

Drake grimaced and started rocking Gosalyn, hoping she would quiet down and sleep. He didn't know if he could take much more of her high pitched cries, but the tiny girl showed no signs of relenting. If anything, her cries were becoming stronger with each passing second. Her face was turning red, and her tiny hands were balled up towards him, and he had no clue what to do.

Trying to avoid panicking, Drake frantically looked around the room for anything at all that might calm her down.

_Posters, useless. Baseballs, too hard. Pencils, she'd choke. Diapers. _"Diapers?"

He stared at the package of diapers for a few second as if he were pondering their very existence, then shrugged. It couldn't hurt. Babies usually cried when they needed a new diaper and didn't stop until they got one, right? Made sense to him.

Shifting the baby Gosalyn against one shoulder, Drake set about straightening out the bed covers, then laid her down He nearly jumped out of his skin when the volume of her wails went up after he let go. He hadn't thought it possible she could get any louder.

Feeling rushed, he snatched the package off the desk and ripped it open. He got as far as unsnapping her onesie and pulling it back when he realized he wasn't sure which side of the new diaper was the front. The whole thing had pictures around it, so that ruled out putting the main picture forward.He couldn't read the wrapper the diaper came in either, since he had dropped it somewhere behind him, and he wasn't sure it came with instructions anyway.

_Well,_ he decided, _all else fails, look at the one she is wearing. Tabs in the back. Wrap around to the front. Okay. I can do this._

Well, at least he was pretty sure he could change a diaper without messing up. It seemed easy enough. It was easy. In less than five minutes Gosalyn was changed, snapped back into her undershirt and pajamas, and still screaming at him.

Drake tossed the dirty diaper in a waste basket, then once again took to rocking Gosalyn in his arms, hoping the new diaper would do the trick . . . _and I have an army of gremlins living in my basement plotting against the Muddlefoots, _he thought sulkily.

Drake pursed his lips. She was still crying and he was still out of ideas.

Fearful of tripping with her in his arms, Drake decided to see what he could find down stairs to distract her and hopefully calm her.

He paused in front of the T.V. and debated turning it on, but then he remembered hearing something about babies not being able to see clearly and thought better of it. Why ruin her vision before she even had it?

Vaguely he wondered when babies did start to see clearly, but then his mind went to coffee, and his body went into the kitchen. It was setting in to be a long night.

He was tired.

He wanted to go to bed.

He had a screaming baby in his arms.

He was out of clean cups.

Drake closed the cabinet and checked the dishwasher. Sure enough, he found it loaded probably beyond capacity, the soap compartment full, and that all it needed was for someone to start it. Oddly, the fact that all he had to do was press start seemed to lift weights off his shoulders he hadn't known were there.

Okay, so he was out of cups, time to get creative.

Rummaging through a shelf he pulled out a large glass measuring cup, filled half way with water and plopped it in the microwave. His drowsiness was slowly turning into a headache. Gosalyn was still crying.

Drake cringed when the microwave beeped at him. What in the heck kind of father was he? His child is crying and he was fixing coffee?

He shifted the little girl to his other side with a guilty sigh, opened the cupboard where he kept the instant coffee and suddenly felt like running down the street proclaiming God's existence. Staring him down from its lofty perch on the shelf was a carton of instant baby formula. His head had been in such a fog, it hadn't crossed his mind she might be hungry.

A brief search of the Quackerware drawer turned up a bottle, which he promptly filled with the warm water and a few spoon fulls of formula. A quick shake to mix it and he declared it ready to serve, except he didn't have a rocking chair. His mom had told him once that babies like to be rocked when fed, but all he had were wood dining chairs, two blue _swivel_ arms chairs, a couch . . .

A couch. That would work, then both of them would be comfortable.

The second Drake sat down, arranged Gosalyn in his arms and lap, and gave her that bottle she instantaneously calmed down. Relief washed over him, he had found what she wanted and now she was quiet, or almost quiet. Her sucking on the rubber nipple was causing air bubbles and a squeak, which he had no problem with at all. In fact, he thought it was rather cute. She was cute. Staring up at him with those large, deep green eyes surrounded by red fuzz, and her little fingers curling around his pinky, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Drake smiled at her and started to hum a little tune he remembered his grandmother singing to him. Eventually he drifted into singing the actual song aloud, although Gosalyn had finished her bottle and was now sleeping peacefully.

When the last note faded from his lips, Drake had already made his way upstairs and placed her on one side of his queen sized bed, arraigning pillows in a square around her. A crib was one thing he knew he wouldn't find, and there was no way he was going to put her back in her room, so tonight she would sleep with him. He climbed into his side of the bed and smiled dreamily, running his fingers gently over the top of Gosalyn's head. A gigantic yawn escaped him and he mashed an eye with his palm. Gos had the right idea, it was definitely bed time.

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_**There is more to this story. It's coming. Come back in a week.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Six a.m. Lovely._

He smiled at his alarm clock dreamily. Moments later his eyes shot open in surprise as he pushed himself up. He swore had to be seeing things, but the red numbers clearly said six forty-two a.m.

"What am I doing?" He mumbled, slumping into his pillow.

Something hiccuped, causing him to scowl wearily. There was no way, it couldn't be, it simply wasn't possible.

Drake turned to his right and glanced over the pillows beside him.

"GOOD FREAKIN' . . . What is this! What did you get into to cause this?"

In response to her father's question, Gosalyn swung her tiny fist around making a fussy little screech. Drake started to frown, but ended up wrinkling his nose. He leaned towards his daughter and smiled.

"You just have to make things difficult, don't you?"

His answer was a hefty little smack in the shape of a baby's fist.

With a sigh, he heaved himself out of bed and carried Gosalyn to her room, where he promptly made a search for the diapers he tossed around the night before. He found them hiding just under the changing table.

Going through the same motions as the night before, only this time knowing which way the diaper went, Drake unfastened the offensive thing all the while turning green. This wasn't like last night. This was worse.

Completely disgusted and a little nauseous, he managed to clean her up with half a box of baby wipes, taking care to not breathe as deep or as often as he liked. The only thing keeping his stomach in check was the though that his ordeal was almost over.

Holding the foul, plastic wrapped used diaper as far away from himself as possible, he pivoted on one foot and tripped on the other, sending him -and the diaper- flying.

Drake managed to regain his balance awkwardly, barking out "dang it!", when his pant leg caught on the velcro of a diaper bag. He freed himself with a couple of shakes of his leg, then went to find where the diaper landed.

He didn't have to look too hard. For a split second, he looked and sounded like another person, swearing horribly because he was suddenly angry at the world. But then, if you had just finished cleaning up one mess, only to have to clean the same mess off a wall because you tripped yourself, you'd probably find some creative phrases as well.

Drake had just finished cleaning and tossing everything into a garbage bag, when lo and behold Gosalyn decided she wanted to scream -again. Refraining from ripping out the feathers on his head, he lifted the irate baby off the changing table and headed for the kitchen, declaring to her "kid, if you want a reason to be mad, try being me for a day."

Once again, the bottle brought sweet relief -until he realized that though she was finished eating and clearly didn't want anymore, she was still crying in short irritable bursts.

Drake grumbled. "What more could you want? You can't really do anything."

Without even thinking about it, Drake slung her up by his shoulder and bounced her gently. Subconsciously, his mind figured if the nine year old Gosalyn liked jumping, so would the baby Gosalyn.

The sound she made next left Drake a little awestruck and a little impressed. For out of the petit baby on his shoulder came the largest burp he had ever heard from someone her size. He ceased bouncing and held her out a little ways so he could look her in the eye.

"I take that back, you can do something, and quite well."

He laid her down on his lap and just, well, played with her the best he knew how, which consisted mostly of babble talk, tickling, and funny faces. To his surprise, he really enjoyed making a fool of himself for her. The wide, innocent smiles she was giving him was something he wouldn't trade for the world.

Quite abruptly, the front door opened and a high, sweetly obnoxious voice rang out: "Oh, Drake, nock nock."

The mallard stopped, threw his head up, and ground his teeth into a smile. "Oh, hi Binkie, what brings you by today?"

Binkie patted the back of her sunny blonde hair and smiled at him. "Oh don't be silly, I said I would come over to help you with Gosalyn since your brother refused, so here I am."

Binkie put a finger to her mouth, "I suppose he was right to say no, he does have a bit of a temper," followed by a girlish giggle. "Oooh, imagine that, a pair of brothers trying to take care of a little baby, it's like those T.V. shows Herb watches."

He was confused and it showed. "Wait a minute, just hold everything -my brother? Where's Launchpad?"

This was nuts. Since when did he have a brother? And since _when_ was Gosalyn being a baby normal! Let alone that Binkie Muddlefoot knew about it.

The June Cleaver model of a woman that was his neighbor gazed at him curiously, then regained her picture perfect smile, shooing him with a small wave of her hand.

"Drake, you silly, you had another late night last night, didn't you? I don't see how you could ever forget about your brother. Well, at least not for long, I mean you two are practically identical, which you know he gets in such an uproar about. Goodness me, you'd think he hated having a brother."

Drake took on the characteristics of a rock. To him, there was only one person whom Binkie could be talking about, and yes, he would hate having a brother. But then, Drake wouldn't want him for a brother either, so the feeling was most definitely mutual.

He flashed the woman a half grin. "Oh yeah, my _brother_. Well, you're right, he's definitely hard to forget about," he said deplorably.

Binkie studied his face. "Oh? I didn't think he came over too often."

Drake blinked. "Huh? What?"

Binkie put a hand to her cheek, blushing. "Oh, how silly of me, that made no sense. Ahh, where is my head today?"

"That's what I'd like to know," he whispered to Gosalyn, who was contentedly gumming his finger.

"Anyway," he continued to Binkie, "where did you say Launchpad was?"

"Hmm, I didn't. Who's Launchpad?"

Drake groaned, there were times when he feared listening to her would make his ears bleed.

"Launchpad, you know, my best friend? Tall, broad shouldered, redhead, he's a pilot."

Binkie's eyes lit up. "Oh! I think I remember him, sweet, kindhearted fellow a little over six feet?"

"Yep, that'd be good ol' LP."

"I thought you said he moved back to Duckburg to be with a lady friend of his."

Drake paled in surprise, a pathetic "eep" drizzling out of his throat.

Binkie patted him kindly on the shoulder, her bright blue-green eyes a little sad.

"You poor dear, you really miss her don't you. Tisk, tisk. Good thing I'm here to help. Here," she said, lifting Gosalyn from him, "I'll take her and get breakfast started."

"Breakfast sounds good." He replied absently.

Drake paused, thinking over what Binkie had said, then bolted through the kitchen door after her.

"Wait! Who's 'her'?" He asked, knowing it was probably an answer so obvious he wouldn't really want to hear it.

Binkie finished fastening Gosalyn into a car seat and gazed at him earnestly, plucking the baby food jar she had off the table and twisting the top free.

She sighed. "Oh, Drake . . . I know it's hard, but you'll make it through. After all, she left you this darling reminder that a part of her is still here."

Drake pinched his eyes. "That's very sweet, Binkie, but you still haven't told me who you're talking about."

She gasped. "You haven't hit your head have you?"

Taken aback, the mallard stumbled over his words. "I, uh, eh, well, I did trip earlier, but I didn't hit anything."

"Oh, dear." Fussily, Binkie shoved Drake into a chair and checked his head for bumps.

Finally, she sat herself, regarding him carefully. "Well, I couldn't find any bruises, but you really don't remember?"

"Remember what?" He exasperated.

"Why Gosalyn's mother of course, your wife, Gretchen."

He felt the blue of his eyes shrink to the size of a pin drop.

"M- m- my _wife_?" He stuttered.

* * *

**_I fear I'm being evil again in doing this, but I decided that what I considered the next chapter to be a little long and a bit much at once, so I cropped it here. And just so you know, when the next part does make its appearance I will recap the last few lines of this chapter. For those of you curious enough, I got the name Gretchen out of an Uncle Scrooge comic book._**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Here's part two of the previous chapter, complete with a recap lead in. Due to mild language, I decided to up the rating. Thanks again to Icequeenkitty for pointing out that I managed to type "Hank" instead of "Herb" like I had intended. I really don't know how I missed that, anyway, I fixed it.

* * *

**_

Finally, she sat herself, regarding him carefully. "Well, I couldn't find any bruises, but you really don't remember?"

"Remember what?" He exasperated.

"Why Gosalyn's mother of course, your wife, Gretchen."

He felt the blue of his eyes shrink to the size of a pin drop.

"M- m- my _wife_?" He stuttered.

"Yes, we were all so sorry when we heard about the accident."

"Wait, you mean she's . . ."

Binkie nearly looked horrified. "You don't remember that either? Oh dear me, oh . . . I shouldn't be the one to tell you, really, but . . . oh, the doctors warned that you might block it out, I guess they were right."

"Binkie, stop rambling and get to the point. What happened?"

After fidgeting with her fingers, Binkie finally met Drake's eyes wearing a heartbreaking expression he hadn't thought her deep enough of a person to have.

"You were in a car accident nine weeks ago Drake. You and Gosalyn were fine, no marks at all, but . . . but Gretchen was driving and, and the other car . . . the other car . . ."

Drake placed his hand gently on her arm. "Binkie, that's enough, I think I know the rest."

Binkie made a small, teary noise, then turned her attention back to Gosalyn, who had decided to let loose a shriek. The blonde woman sniffed as she fed the tiny girl what looked like orange paste.

After a dower bit of silence she asked, "Drake, are you sure . . . uh, are you sure you don't have anyone else you could call to help you? I mean I don't mind it, but maybe live in help would be more _helpful_?"

"I'm that bad, huh?" His chest was uncomfortably tight.

Her face flushed. "Oh! No, I didn't mean. Oh, I just . . . I meant."

Drake shook his head.

"It's all right, Binkie, I know you didn't mean it that way, not intentionally anyway. In answer to your question: no, I don't have any relatives I could call, it's just me and my, uh, brother."

Binkie's light eyes glistened sympathetically. "No one?"

Drake rolled his eyes. "Well, I do have a few _distant_ relations here and there, the closest one lives in Duckburg, but I've never met any of them."

Binkie sighed. "Never? How distant are they?"

Drake paused, counting on his fingers as markers. "Uh, the ones that would be around my age are like my third cousins twice removed."

"How terrible, I've always loved having a close knit family."

Drake snorted. "Yeah, well both sides of my family are notorious for alienating most everyone, so to have more than a few of us in the same place- let alone live in the same place- is asking for trouble."

"Hmm, Herb's aunt and family are like that. Every Christmas something, or some_one_ always ends up broken, or hurt, or upset. Dear me it's always such a mess."

"Yeah, well-"

"HEY KNOB, YOU HOME?"

Drake snapped his head around in shock, a small tingle of "uh-oh" fled down his back.

"In the kitchen, you jackanapes." He responded back, calmer than he felt.

The door abruptly opened to reveal an irate looking mallard in a yellow t-shirt and well worn jeans, with an "excuse me?" twist to his bill.

"Jack in the wha?"

"Jack in the nothing. I wanted to call you something else and tell you to get lost, but there's a lady and a baby present."

The mallard in the doorway smiled at Drake, sitting catacorner from him after snatching an apple from a fruit basket on the counter.

"Like that would have made me leave you alone."

He bit noisily into the apple and eyed his surroundings peevishly.

"You know," he said between bites, "it's sad how you've jumped right into this whole 'domestic dad' life. Crud, who are you trying to be, Wob Waget? Or with _these_ colors Maggie Dewart?"

Drake grinned. "Binkie cover your ears please."

"Huh? Uh, sure."

Drake leaned in low, a mischievous spark in his eye. "Hey, I didn't pick the colors, but if it put her in the mood who was I to care what they were."

He winked at his open mouthed opposite, who was laughing and choking on his apple at the same time. Finally, he managed to swallow.

"Okay, you made your point, just do me the favor of never mentioning yourself and sex in the same sentence ever again."

"Deal."

Binkie, who had been watching the two, slowly uncovered her ears and meekly asked, "is it safe?"

"Yeah, it's safe."

She smiled and relaxed. "Oh good, for a second I was afraid you two were going to start fighting again."

"Give it an hour or so, we'll find something to argue about for you."

Binkie stared wide eyed, then smiled; giggling. "Oh, Granville, you're such a jokester."

Drake rested his head on his hand and eyed his double, who had turned red. "I wish."

"Lady, how many times now have I told you not to call me by that name?"

"Well, I have to call you something don't I?"

"You can call me Sir, or you could just _not_ talk to me, which would solve my problem."

Binkie glared at him.

"Well," she said hotly, placing the empty baby food jar in the sink with the spoon. "Drake, I leave Gosalyn to you. I'll come back to check on you two when _Granville_ leaves."

A smiled graced Granville's face as Binkie left for her own home next door. "Works for me."

Drake scratched his head. "Ya know, Negs, you don't have to be so mean to her, Binkie is not that bad a person and I do need the help."

He snorted. "Do you ever, but she's a dits, and _what_ did you just call me?"

"Uh, 'Negs'."

"Negs, Negs, Negs . . ." he repeated over to himself, "huh, I kinda like it."

"Figured you would."

"I want to know where in the hell mom came up with our names. I don't think she could have picked out worse ones."

"Hey," Drake retorted, "I happen to like my name."

"That's because it's not 'Granville'."

Drake sighed. "What are you doing over here anyway?"

"The witch in the apartment next to mine put a hammer through my T.V. and I want to watch the game so I'm taking over your living room for today."

"Oh joy. So who's playing?"

"The Cape Suzette Buccaneers and the Hensonville Animals."

Drake bit his lip thinking as Granville dove into the fridge and pulled out a bucket of chicken left over from the other night.

"That doesn't sound like football."

"It's not. It's more like a gladiator sports show, just with a healthy does of destruction and mayhem instead of boring ol' competition."

Granville suddenly halted and sniffed the air. "Aw man!" His hand flew to his nose. "What the hell did she feed this kid? It's not right for something that small to have a smell that large."

"Yeah and what's more, if you hadn't pushed Binkie's buttons like that she probably would have changed her, now I have to." Drake said, unfastening Gosalyn from her seat.

"Tough. You're the one who had the darn thing in the first place."

"She's a kid, not a thing."

"Bull. It eats, sleeps, craps, and cries." He stopped. "If you had wanted all of that why didn't you just buy a cat like normal people?"

Drake stormed past his brother, "who said I like cats?" who followed.

"Who said you were normal?"

"Well, I didn't want a cat, I wanted a daughter."

Granville jumped onto the couch and flicked the T.V. on to his show as Drake disappeared up the stairs.

"And you call me crazy; I'd have taken the cat."

"Sure you would. I bet Reggie would just _love_ having a cat around to pee in his plants for him. Oh, and just for that attitude of yours I'm changing her out here."

Drake returned with the diapers and wet wipes, setting up right beside his twin, who was glaring at him with utmost loathing in his baby blue eyes.

"You know, there are days where I swear hurting you would solve all my problems, and what the hell does Reggie have to do with anything?"

Drake smiled. "Are you trying to tell me he's _just_ your roommate?"

A chicken bone snapped in his hand. "Watch it, Dip, or that adorable little brat of yours will find herself landed in foster care 'cause her daddy's in the hospital."

"What, he decide you two were 'just friends'?"

The chicken bone grazed the top of Drake's head..

"Don't you even start with me, I'm not the one pining over the handsome pilot who decided he likes women better."

Drake gave him a smirk worthy of the devil and held up Gosalyn's dirty diaper. Granville leaned back apprehensively, sneering at Drake.

"You wouldn't _dare_."

Drake smiled. "Hey, if you want to get dirty, I can make it dirty."

Granville's eyes darted back to the T.V.

"Forget it, I rather watch my show. Besides, you'd find _that_ mess on your couch if you even tired to touch me with it."

Drake looked from the diaper to his twin. "Aw, what are you so afraid of? It's just baby poop."

"Drake, shut up. If you want to talk, talk during a commercial."

Drake frowned, tossed the diaper in an outside garbage tin, then came back to sit next to the moody image of himself on the couch.

"Uh," he started tentatively, "are you sure this has nothing to do with Reg?"

Granville rounded on him. "I AM NOT GAY! Get your mind out of where ever the hell it is and back into reality."

Drake held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay."

"If you _must_ know the exact details down to the last microscopic crumb on my bedroom floor because obviously the picture is just too big for you, the witch who wrecked my T.V. lives in the joint above me, she's smoking hot and, uh, _persuaded_ me to invite her in. An hour later I tell her I'm gonna go watch my show and she can find the door herself. Well, she starts acting like she's hurt, so I told her that I was planning on urinating on my mother's front door later and that she could join me if she feels so neglected. That wasn't what she wanted to hear, so she threw my favourite sledge hammer through the T.V., then I turned around and booted her arse out the door and came here."

Drake just stared at him, then realizing his mouth was hanging open he closed it.

Granville watched him, a playful glint in his eyes. "Too much?"

"Eh . . ., it's a lot to take in that's for sure."

His double waved a dismissive hand at him. "You're just too clean cut."

"It's called decency."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Sure you did. Oh, were your really going to . . ."

"Let loose on Mom's front door? I thought about it, why? Wanna join in?"

"I'll pass."

His twin shrugged, then frowned. "Whatever."

An odd silence fell between them, broken up only by the grunts and groans coming from the T.V. Occasionally Granville would hurl a few insults towards the screen, but afterwards the silence would re-establish its supremacy. Eventually the comments stopped altogether, and instead of watching his game Granville found his attention wandering from Gosalyn to Drake to Gosalyn again. Over and over, back and forth, until finally he scrunched his fingers into his jeans and hopped up, turning to Drake with a disgusted expression twisting his good looks into something far more sinister.

"I can't take this any more, it's too weird, even for you."

Drake raised a brow. "What are you talking about?"

"That." He said, pointing accusingly at Gosalyn who was quite content at squirming on the floor, oblivious to her uncle's distaste. "That thing, kid, whatever, she's changed you. You at least used to feign a little interest in sports, and before she was born I know you would have been up for defacing anything of Mom's, but you haven't even tried to pretend to be interested. It's sick."

"It's called facing responsibility, you might try it some day. And I do like sports, just not whatever this is your watching."

Granville rolled his eyes. "Gymnastics is not a sport."

Drake made a face. "Who said anything about gymnastics? I watch the Quack Fu competitions when they're on."

"Big difference. Anyway, I'm outta here, this game sucks."

Granville stared at his niece with a half bemused look on his face, then strut off for the door shaking his head. Drake watched him, then gently pipped up.

"Are you sure this has nothing to do with Reggie?"

Granville whirled round in the entry way and glared at him. "Are you stupid, or what? I already told you this has nothing to do with Reg, and everything to do with some dumb blonde putting a hammer through my T.V., so knock it off with the twenty questions; shit."

Drake ran a keen eye over him. "Negs?"

Blue eyes caught blue eyes.

"Fuck off, Drake."

The front door slammed shut. Gosalyn jumped, her green eyes growing huge, the look of calm she had up till then broke and she started to cry. Drake immediately scooped her up off the floor in the blanket she was laying on, speaking soft words of comfort as he place his cheek against the top of her head. Inwardly he sighed, it seemed what ever strange and bizarre situation he found himself in being tortured by his doppelganger was the average norm.

* * *

**_Okay, just so you all are aware (if it wasn't already obvious) I am a huge fan of Negaduck and love to write arguments between him and Darkwing. I hadn't originally planned on putting him in his one, but he won me over, so here he is. The name Granville is also from a Scrooge McDuck comic. I don't remember the issue number for the story, but the names Granville and Gretchen were what Scrooge named two eggs he was trying to hatch into golden geese. It's just my way of paying tribute to the brilliant minds behind those comics, mostly Carl Barks & Don Rosa._**


	5. Chapter 5

_Rest your head, little girl blue, come paint your dreams on your pillow. I'll be near to chase away fear, so sleep now and dream till tomorrow. I'll be near to chase away fear, so sleep now and dream till tomorrow . . ._

He thought the words rather then singing them, although he was humming the tune. He simply didn't want to risk waking her after just getting her to asleep. She had not wanted to calm down after his brother left, but after an hour of trying the sandman finally won and she had curled into him out cold.

Little girl blue indeed, he realized, noting with a sly grin that his daughter was wearing a baby blue cotton jumper and a white shirt with pink ruffles on the neck and sleeve collars.

_My own sweet little angel,_ Drake thought, smiling fully seconds before the irony of his words caught up with him and he made a near vain attempt to keep his sudden bark of laughter a mild chuckle. What ever angel she may be now, add a few years and you would get a child worthy of the devil on your shoulder, innocent eyes free of charge.

He carried her up the stairs, started to turn towards his room when something very strange caught his eye, or at least it seemed strange to him. Drake frowned at the direction his thoughts were taking, and briefly he wondered if he should have his head examined. Why would it be that he his daughter turning into a baby in the middle of the night should cause him less distress than finding her bed gone and a fully prepared crib in it's place?

_I've been around Dr. Bellum too much recently,_ he thought, warily stepping into his daughter's room and staring at the crib. _Especially if I'm more worried about the possibility of some nut job replacing my furniture under my nose than what unknown substance my daughter has been in. _

With a half hearted shrug he gently laid Gosalyn down and covered her tiny frame with a Peter Cottontail blanket. A content smile spread across his face as he watched her sleep, touching her little red curls lightly with his finger. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this. A blink and sigh later found him resting his forearms on the crib rail, pensively staring past the sleeping baby.

_Dr. Bellum . . . Calling her might not be a half bad idea, if she is who she should be in this topsy-turvy world, _he mused. A thoughtful glance thrown his daughter's way and Drake was down the stairs wondering aloud where he had stuck his address book. Coming to a halt in the foyer and taking a good look around, he decided the best way to start would be to systematically go through each room starting with the north side of the house and work his way south. A self satisfied smile grew on his lips upon his decision, having things under control was definitely a wonderful feeling.

Having a system was good, having it work well was even better, but two rooms later his system was falling apart around him as it seemed nothing in his house was where it should be. Of course, normally that didn't bother him because that was the way his house usually was, but today he was irate about it. By the time he finished searching the bedrooms he had thrown working with any semblance to a system out the widow and was madly digging through every spot he couldn't recall going through. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't find a simple seven by five brown book. Between Drake's continued annoyance and verbally assaulting empty air it took him well into the early afternoon to finally locate his address book, which had been conveniently shelved next to the cereal boxes. How it managed to end up there was beyond him, but he had the nagging suspicion that it might have been Binkie's doing. In his mind the fact that she could walk and talk at the same time was nothing short of a God given miracle.

Drake flopped down in a kitchen chair and cracked the book open scanning name after name all the while thinking that he should really hide this particular book. It just didn't seem prudent to have the names, addresses, and phone numbers (if available) of every major villain he had faced off with intermixed with business associates and friends lying around for everyone to see. He paused briefly, wondering what had possessed him to compile them all together in the first place. Tapping his finger to his bill he remembered. He had thrown them together because while he never let the villain listings out of his sight, he always ended up sticking his friends and family listings in odd places so it wouldn't get in the way. Ultimately, he would forget where he put the address book and would be reminded of it when his mother called to yell at him for not calling on her birthday, or Christmas, or Easter.

"Am I really that big of a loner?" He asked himself aloud, ending his runaway thoughts. "Geez, no wonder Mom is always mad at me, maybe I should take Gos and visit."

One stupid pause later.

"And maybe I should drink arsenic," he corrected himself. "Now, lets see, Bellum, Bellum . . . Aha! Dr. Sarah Bellum, pediatrician!"

Drake barely had his hand on the phone before he spun back to the book on the table with an overtly dramatic pivot and stared dumbfounded at the word scribbled next to Dr. Bellum's name.

"Pediatrician? Since when? Oo-kay, I can forget getting any help from her. Hmm, who else do I know that can muck with genetics," he asked, flipping through pages. "Sparky's out of the question. Reggie? Nope, not after that crap with Negs. Besides, I don't want a plant for a kid. Dr. Rhoda Dendron? Nah, I don't even want to know what profession she's currently in. Hey! I know, I'll call Morgana, even if she does conjure up pudding more often than not she still may know how to reverse this mess.

"Now, where did I write her number?" Drake stopped. "She did give me her number, didn't she? I could have sworn she did right after the Justice Ducks incident." He drove through a few more pages before a slip of thick red, near velvety paper fell out and to the floor. "Aha! I knew I had it."

Drake placed the paper, which in actuality was a small napkin, to his nose and breathed deep. A sweet, almost cinnamon ginger smell invaded his senses, pulling him into dreamland until a shrill alarm startled him into Quack-fu kicking a chair onto its side.

"Huh? Who? What? When? Where? Oh. The phone." He let out a sheepish chuckle, snatched the phone off the receiver and cleared his throat before saying, "hello?"

"Um. Oh. Hi, Drake?" Came a soft, almost musical voice.

"Morgana, hi, I was just about to call you."

"You were! Oh, uh, I mean, you were?"

Drake chuckled. "Yeah, I have your number here in my hand." He set the napkin down on the counter. "So what's up?"

"What's up? Drake, are you feeling all right? You forgot again didn't you?" She sighed. "Drake I understand if this is hard for you, and that you were afraid you might be rushing things, but we agreed you would call if you felt like canceling."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, cancel what?"

"Dinner. Tonight. 6 o'clock, like we agreed last week." Her tone nearing acidic.

Drake took a deep breath and prepared to lie out his teeth. "Oh, yeah, right. Look I'm sorry, I didn't mean to forget. Things have been stressful lately, but it's not what you think."

"Then what is it, Drake?"

Another deep breath. "Negs came by and picked a fight with Binkie this morning and then with me. Gosalyn kept me up last night and hasn't been herself today, so dinner all but escaped my mind. I'm sorry, Morg, maybe we could," he wasn't sure how, but he swore she just made the temperature drop and gulped. "Like I was saying, maybe we could skip the restaurant and eat in tonight?"

A silent prayer was running headlines in his head, hoping beyond all hope that she would buy into it. He heard her smile, and let out the breath he had been holding.

"Oh, Drake I would love to come over and meet Gosalyn. I didn't think you were ready for such a step. Oh, wow, I just love babies. I can't wait. I get off work at five, so I'll head right over."

"Work? You? I didn't think a sorceress needed a nine to five job." He said in all seriousness.

Morgana giggled. "Oh Drake, you're such a charmer." Abruptly she let out a small groan.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," she sighed, "except I just realized I smell like embalming fluid, I'll have to go home and shower."

Drake audibly gagged. "Embalming fluid?"

"Yes, darn stuff can get everywhere if you're not careful, but you weren't thinking about that were you? You know I work for the morgue." She laughed lightly. "Drake Mallard what will I do with you."

"I have no clue," his voice coming out in a squeak.

"I think you do. Anyway, my boss is coming back this way so I better go, see you tonight."

Even after the click, after the dial tone, and after forcing himself to hang up, Drake was still in a bit of shock. He couldn't remember Morgana ever coming on to him like that, it was as disconcerting as it was incredibly sexy. Running a hand through his hair, he shot a glance at the clock. Two pm, more than enough time to clean up the mess he made in his mad search for his address book.

"I wonder if I'm supposed to cook something?" He knitted his brows and pursed his lips. "I have a roast I could fix, or is she a vegetarian? Not like I can guess by the stuff she eats, and knowing her it's probably neither meat or vegetable."

Drake hid the address book in his room and started to clean the bathroom when it dawned on him that Morgana had stated that she'd never seen Gosalyn. _Odd,_ he thought, _because I know she's seen Gosalyn, well the older Gosalyn at least. Gosalyn . . ._

Baby blue eyes flew wide open. "Oh crap, Gosalyn! I put her down hours ago and haven't checked on her."

The sponge he was holding, the gloves on his hands, it all got thrown to the floor as Drake darted out and into his daughter's room. He promptly thanked the powers that be when he found her awake and calm, waving her arms and legs at a mobile above her head. Upon hearing her father sigh however, she froze and began to fuss.

"Come on kid," Drake said lifting her, "you probably need a new diaper by now."

Indeed she did. Badly. Drake couldn't believe how someone so small could fill a diaper every few hours, it was simply staggering. He was pleased, however, that he managed to get through the task without incident and without Gosalyn screaming until her face was red.

"Yep, yep, yep, no task is too small for the mighty Darkwing Duck!" He stated proudly scooping Gosalyn up and over his head before he settled her in the crook of his arm. Gosalyn let out a squealing smile at the movement and Drake, ego rising, promptly put his foot down on an open bottle of baby powder trying to walk away. Instantly, a cloud of white mist enveloped father and daughter, the former reduced to sneezing uncontrollably as his daughter screeched at all the bizarre noises.

"Okay," he coughed, "maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Just don't tell anyone I said that, little missy." He made a funny face at Gosalyn, prompting a smile from her as they headed back down the stairs.

* * *

**_Well, (see profile for excuses) this wasn't where I wanted to end it, but it seemed like a good place even if it is potentially missing a few details. It's here, readable, and reviewable (don't think that's a word, but oh well). Enjoy!_**


	6. Chapter 6

He bent down to kiss her again, only to have a tiny hand clamp down on his beak and give a sharp tug. Drake chuckled and blew air onto her palm, sending the little girl into a series of laughing hiccups. He let out a contented sigh as the hand that had previously grabbed him found its way into its owner's mouth. Such a beautiful little creature, how was it he was the one lucky enough to have her? Holding her aloft, she stuck her fist in her mouth and grinned. He tickled her with one finger and smiled back, then deftly brought her down to his shoulder.

"Ok! Let's fetch that bouncy car seat thing of yours and get back to cleaning the bathroom." Drake bumped the kitchen door open with his should, making cooing noises all the while avoiding the baby's damp fist.

Finding the Bouncer still on the kitchen table, with another quick tickle and kiss, Drake strapped Gosalyn in. Just in time too, for she chose at that moment to bless him with a sound not unlike an off-key children's Recorder. He pushed back and wrung a finger in his ear, mouth open in a silent expression of discomfort. Chuckling at what he was sure would later develop into Tinnitus, Drake cradled the contraption holding his daughter with both arms and bounded back up the stairs shaking his head.

"Guess this proves you've always been on the vocal side."

A gurgle and a drool bubble popping on her clothes was his answer.

"And destined to never be clean."

She smiled at him briefly before pummeling the air with all four limbs.

"Suppose I should be happy those appendages of yours can't cause harm to persons or property just yet, not that I want you to wreck havoc on our unsuspecting neighbors. Remind me to remind you that just because they can't prove it doesn't mean I can't, especially with Honker's inability to tell a convincing lie. He always looks down when you corner him, it's too easy. I wonder if it's a self-esteem issue? Binkie aught to have him looked at for that. Come to think of it, all the Muddlefoots should be examined, but that's asking too much isn't it?"

He set her down in the bathroom doorway and reached for the sponge before noticing his baby daughter had gone silent.

"Hardy-har-har, six months old and you're already tuning me out. I'm not that boring!"

Gosalyn blinked. He wasn't sure what she was watching, but was willing to bet it was the bright red sponge in his hand.

"Ok, so maybe I am boring. Sometimes. Let's hope Morgana doesn't think so. Her getting bored means cemeteries, and I do not want to picnic among headstones tonight, once in my life was plenty."

Gosalyn started thrusting her arms again, appearing to be after the front fabric of her jumper. Drake sighed and re-wet the sponge.

The three hours went faster than he expected. The guest bathroom alone had taken twenty minutes. It would have taken less if he hadn't cleaned everything including the tub, but he honestly could remember when it had been gone over last and didn't want to leave it to chance. After that came the study, family room, living room, any place he had upturned searching for his address book, stopping half way to pull the roast out of the refrigerator and start the oven. Setting the pre-heat timer, he went back to picking up, dusting a few obviously dirty things here and there. All in all, it took him about two hours -breaking ten minutes in to this time put the roast in the oven- to tidy the house. He had barely finished scrubbing the kitchen, changing himself and Gosalyn into nicer clothes, and checking the roast when he was startled out of his super humanoid trance by burning his hand on the roof of the appliance and the chiming of the doorbell, simultaneously. Biting back a swear, Drake briefly nursed his wound, gathered up Gosalyn, and headed for the front door.

_Has the foyer always been this long?_ "Nervous, kiddo?" Drake asked, glancing at Gosalyn contentedly sucking on a few fingers. "Guess not, but it's only obvious you take after me, for I am fearless in the face of danger! I remain cool as ice when under pressure! I! I am ruggedly handsome, you think?"

He paused in front of the hall mirror, Gosalyn murmured half attentively and slobbered on his hand. Drake pouted. "Yeah? Well no one asked for your opinion." He latched onto the doorhandle and yanked it open with the demeanor of a king, and promptly froze.

Black Mary-Jane's on thin, pale feathered legs disappearing under a simple red dress with frightfully luscious curves. A playful, knowing smirk and sparkling dark green eyes came into his line of vision as he progressed upward. A melodious chuckle reached his ears, bringing him to his senses. With a shake of his head, he stepped back, allowing the tall, coyly smiling brunette entrance.

"Y- you look great Morgana!"

"Thanks." She said, moving softly past him, her eyes sweeping around. "What a charming home, although I would have thought you to be a dark wood kind of guy."

"Yeah, well, track homes aren't known for their variety."

Morgana blushed and bit on her lip. "Well, I actually wouldn't know, this is my first time being in a 'track home', you said?"

Drake blinked. "Really?" _Unusual, but considering the source . . ._

"Daddy doesn't like the'monotony of middle class', as he puts it. He thinks it's stifling to natural development and tacky."

"Charming. Does your dad know about me yet?"

"Well, yes, no, not exactly." Morgana fidgeted. "He gets so temperamental at times so I've told him I'm seeing someone, just haven't given him a whole lot of details yet. But don't worry, he'll accept you whether he wants to or not," proclaiming the last not unlike the murderess of a late night horror film.

Drake swallowed hard. "Um, heh heh, yeah, uh, oh! Morgana this is my daughter, Gosalyn. Gosalyn meet Morgana."

Now he felt strange, surreal even. He half wondered if all the clocks in the house were melting. It was simply quite the conundrum to sum up what it was like to introduce Gosalyn as a baby to a woman who knew who as she rightly should be, but didn't seem to remember. He felt his face contort, meaning his carefully maintained mask of normalcy was slipping. Quickly masking his real thoughts with his brilliant acting skills, he could only hope Morgana didn't take notice. Luck, though, it seemed was on his side. Gosalyn had decided to start gumming her frilly lilac dress at the time he let his guard down, so he could pass it off as exasperation at her if need be. It went smoothly enough he supposed, Morgana was taken with her and didn't bat an eye.

"Oh, Drake, she's darling, and quite spirited." This said as a tiny hand reached up to latch on a strand of Morgana's hair falling free from her French twist and give a sharp tug.

"Sorry." Drake blurted immediately, wincing with the beauty.

"It's all right." She brushed off. "May I hold her?"

"Uh, sure."

Morgana loosened the tight grasp on her hair and coddled the little girl close to her, her face lighting up at the wiggly baby in her arms. "Oh, I could just eat her!"

"But I've got roast!"

Morgana's eyes flew to his face in surprise. "Drake!"

Feeling his feathers turn several shades of red, he laughed uneasily. "Sorry, just kidding."

Morgana sighed with a smile. "Oh, Drake."

"But I do have roast on, and it should be ready pretty soon."

"Sounds great, lead the way."

Following the mallard into the kitchen, she watched as Drake fiddled with a temperature gauge in the meat, humming slightly off key. Feeling her gaze, he risked a quick glance up. "It has about five more minutes. In the mean time, could I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Milk? Soda?" He was running out of options. "Oh! I've still got an unopened bottle of red wine from last Christmas."

Morgana laughed at his enthusiasm. "Why not? Feels like Christmas."

He spun away, hoping to hide his sudden happy glow and fetched the bottle from an out of the way shelf, talking for cover. "I'm not a big drinker, so I have a habit of letting these things sit. Usually Negs takes them, don't know why he missed this one."

"Well, I'm glad he did, now we have something to toast with."

"Yeah." Drake agreed, popping the cork into the dirty dish rack with a small crash. "Oops." He produced two small crystal wine glasses from a cabinet to the side of the stove range and filled both, swapping his baby for her glass.

Morgana took a sip, pursing her lips, and savoring the taste. She paused in lowering her glass, curiously she asked, "Who's Negs?"

"Huh?" Confusion momentarily settled in. "My, brother, uh, Granville. I've told you about him, right?"

Understanding flooded her face. "Hm, strange, I've never heard you call him that."

"Heh, yeah, uh, it's a personal nickname. I call him Negs and he calls me Dark. Well," he thought peevishly, "he _should_ call me Dark, but usually it's Dipsh-."

"I think it's a wonderful name, and your brother should know better."

Drake beamed. "Short for Darkwing."

Morgana set her glass down to trail a finger over his beak. "Darkwing. Darkwing." Playing with the syllables, she smiled. "It's so, dark and mysterious, quite fitting."

"Really? I mean, well yeah! Dark and mysterious, that's me."

"I know it's a brotherly thing, but since Granville usually has less polite names for you, do you think he would mind if I stole it? Hmm?"

Suddenly feeling a bit hot under the collar, Drake shifted Gos so they wouldn't squish her and bumped against the counter. "N-no, he wouldn't care. Go ahead."

"Great, Dark."

Morgana brought her fingers down around his collar, green eyes half visible behind long black lashes, both leaning, his free arm snaking round her waist. Gosalyn voiced her opinion in a tumultuous, wailing cry startling both adults out of their world, unsure of themselves and of Gosalyn.

Morgana gazed at the tiny girl, partially upset. Having no experience with babies, she didn't know what was wrong. "What did I do?"

With a sigh, Drake placed Gos against his shoulder, and reached up to pecked Morgana's cheek. "You didn't do anything, Morg, she's just tired. I've had her up since two and it's now six twenty. I need to put her down."

"Put her down!" Shock alight in her eyes.

Drake grimaced, see her smirk. "I deserve that. I mean I'm putting her down in her crib."

"That's quite a way to tell someone you want to go to sleep."

Drake laughed, "it is, but I'll take her wanting to go to bed in the first place and stay there while I can," walking with both girls to the nursery.

"Think she'll give you trouble when she's older?"

"Nope. I know she will."

"I don't know, I have a feeling she'll be a great kid."

Drake cast Morgana a sideways smile while changing Gosalyn in to her pyjamas. "Good and well behaved are two different things." _Like your dad, he's well behaved, but definitely not what I would call good._ Of course, saying that aloud was out of the question. No sense in having both his girls screaming at him, he thought, plopping a pacifier into his daughter's mouth. He settled her in her crib, kissed her fuzzy head, turned off the light, and reached for a giggling Morgana. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

_Told you guys I would end up changing things around. The good news is you get another chapter out of it because I decided to extend almost everything. The bad news is the ending is already known to some of you, but I think the additional laughs will be worth it. Feel free to leave reviews on other chapters for this chapter if you've already submitted one, I don't mind. The other half of this will be up within the following twenty-four hours. Thanks for reading!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the evening was a huge success, if he said so himself. He even got a goodnight kiss out of it that would have left a lesser man gasping for air. Drake flopped back first onto his bed, brandishing an exhausted, happy smile to the star filled sky he could not see. They had sat at his kitchen table and talked for hours over their wine glasses, hands brushing repeatedly, leaving trace blushes up on their cheeks. He could have talked with her all night, and probably would have had Morgana not heartbreakingly said she still had to go into work in the morning. Of course, like any gentleman, he saw her to the door where she once again lowered those dancing emerald eyes, beckoning him, her delicate lips parting. Crawling under his covers, he felt lighter than air, curling into his pillow and into the memory of their parting.

Only the memory didn't end there, for it had started to rain, and the roads too treacherous. Being the gentleman he was, it was only natural he insist she stay the night. He led her then, upturned hand gently grasping hers, up the stairs. The light tock of the clock in the den the only sound besides their breaths mingling in the air, chiming as the hour struck.

"Brwwwk, brwwk, brwwwk." Drake blinked. Heck of a thing for a clock to sound like.

"Brwwk." He blinked again, rubbing his eye for good measure.

The clock on his night stand surprised him by reading one thirty. He had fallen asleep without realising it. Groaning, he drug himself from the comforts of his nest to plod ungracefully down the hall, curiosity once again getting the better of him.

_This is the second night in a row I've heard strange noises coming from Gosalyn's room. _He immediately shuddered at a stray thought of the years to come, and what else might turn up in his daughter's bedroom. _Over my dead body, I rather find she's somehow turned into one of those lizard monsters from her horror films. And what _is_ that? It doesn't sound a thing like a baby._ He pushed open Gosalyn's door and- _Chicken. There is a chicken in my daughter's room._

For a moment, he simply stood there breathing, his face was completely neutral as if his mind had yet to catch up with his eyes. Which in truth, it hadn't, or rather, his mind was too busy processing the natural conclusion that the day in its entirety had been one elaborate dream, lending him the look of a petrified tree.

"Uh-oh, look Dad, it's not what you think!"

Drake's eyes bolted from the poultry to his nine year old, who was sitting on her bed in a bright green ensemble featuring Godzilla. Some how he registered the fact that she was moving towards him, eyes wide and hair a mess, but it didn't last as his whole world went black, and then wet. He had fainted. Again. And Gosalyn had just poured water on his head.

Opening his eyes, Drake smiled dreamily up at the worried red-head. "Hm, I had strange dream just now that you were a baby, Negaduck knew where we lived-."

"But Negaduck does know where we live, he just doesn't care, remember?"

"Don't interrupt! Now, where was I? Oh yes, you were a baby, Negs was there, as was Binkie, and Morgana. Then it all got switched around and you were yourself again, only this time you had a chicken in your room."

Gosalyn kicked at the ground. "Heh heh, about the chicken, Dad . . ."

"Burwak."

Drake pursed his lips. "Gosalyn, oh darling daughter of mine, did I just hear a chicken?"

"Uh, no."

"Burwak- brak."

"I mean, yes."

Bringing himself to stand, he turned to his unusually demure daughter, calmly asking, "and why is there a chicken in your room?"

"BecauseIgothimtowardoffthelizardmenofplanetx."

"Come again? Slowly."

Gosalyn sighed. " I got him to ward off the lizard men of planet x."

"She."

"Huh?"

"Chickens aren't boys, they're girls."

"So? Can I keep _her_?"

"No."

"Oh, why not?"

"Gosalyn, it's a chicken! Chickens belong on farms and on dinner tables, not in the bedroom of a little girl!"

Gos frowned angrily. "Fine, whatever."

Drake sighed. "Look, I'm tired, you're tired, I'll put the chicken in the garage until tomorrow and we take it back to where you got it. Ok?"

"Ok." Drake caught the fowl, and as an after thought Gosalyn called out after him as he headed downstairs. "Does this mean I'm grounded?"

"What do you think?"

"Aw, man!"

_Chicken in garage, check. Must check. Water, check. Sanity depends on it. Aspirin, triple check. Must reassure self of natural order. Phone, check._ The mental check of list continued in his head as he waited for the phone to stop ringing on the other end via answering machine, or the person. Eventually a click was heard, and a gravelly voice barked, "what!"

Throwing pleasantries out with the trash, Drake blurted out with, "Bushroot isn't gay, and you're not living with him are you?"

Silence reigned supreme on the other end, and for a moment he was afraid he dialed the wrong number, before a very calm and collected voice answered him. "Drug bust?"

Drake frowned. "Drug bust?"

"Yes, because if you just called me at two o'clock in the morning to ask if Bushroot and I are gay and you are not higher than shit, I am going to cut off your balls and feed them to you!"

Drake paled, the voice on the other end took in the silence and growled out, "well?"

"Ah, nope, no drug bust."

"Then what the fuck do you think you're doing!"

"Actually, that question was it," Drake supplied with an awkward laugh.

"Darkwing."

"Yeah?"

"Enjoy them while you have them."

"Uhhhh."

"Fucking lunatic," the voice drifted off, growing fainter. Drake could just make out "we're not _that_ different" before a loud click, and the dial tone filled his ear.

After swallowing a couple of aspirin tablets, Drake was once again nestled nice and snug in his bed, half awake and laughing madly. A dream. The whole thing had been one long dream, and not a half bad one either. Gosalyn as a baby, now more than ever he wished he had been able to see her for himself at that age. Sure, he had all her biological family's pictures in a box for her to go through when she was older, but he didn't think a picture could compare to the real thing. Another quiet laugh escaped him, _a chicken, oy vey, _followed by one abrupt realization that froze his blood.: Negs was always good on his word.

* * *

**_Yeah, so not twenty-four hours later, but I made myself sit down to finish it and I did, even threw in an extra scene. :) Thanks for sticking with me, Guys._**


End file.
